Hidden Dimensions
by 3H
Summary: Love was not a subject Lisbeth Salander cared for. Expressing such a stong affection and personal attachment for another human being was something she never planned on attempting again, but what happens when she cannot express the natural and unconditional love she has for her own flesh and blood? [Chapter FIVE now up]
1. ONE

Because there isn't enough Millennium Trilogy fanfiction...

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**Hidden Dimensions**

An annoyingly shrill horn shocked Lisbeth Salander from slumber and into a groggy consciousness. With a crooked neck, her face was pressed into a down pillow, damp with her own drool. The pulsating inside Salander's head was excruciating. Instantly, she knew she drank more than necessary with Mimi the night before and the churning within her stomach seconded that. Inhaling deeply, she rotated to lie on her back to take the pressure of her belly. She was hoping it would cure her queasiness.

Again, some asshole continued assaulting his car horn repeatedly, and any hope Salander had for falling back asleep was wrecked.

On the nightstand to her right, a small Dekad clock from Ikea read 9:26. After a rowdy night at Kvarnen, it felt much too early to get up, but way too late to sleep in. It was Thursday and Mikael would be over any minute, hammering at her door with his fist, expecting her to step outside her apartment and into the world. Millennium offices to be exact.

Sighing, Salander forced herself out of bed. With her feet firmly on the floor, she inhaled deeply praying she wouldn't become sick. Unfortunately her stomach didn't agree with her. As she headed for the bathroom she paused, propping herself against the door seal. It had been a few years since she felt this ill from drinking._ I can't handle this shit anymore. _Once she felt that the room had stop spinning, she continued on to the bathroom vowing to never again drink to the point of inebriation

When she made it to the bathroom, she switched on the lever in the shower, and waited for the warm water.

Digging through a cabinet, she found an aspirin bottle, twisted open the cap and dry swallowed three pills to hurry her headache along. Logically speaking, she knew it wouldn't speed up the symptoms of a hangover, but she could imagine.

In the meantime, she unwrapped her poorly swathed knuckles. Her right hand had dry blood across the back of her hand and it had swollen up quite a bit. Punching some guy in the face wasn't her idea of a great time, but it felt rather satisfying after her breast had "accidentally" been caressed. Four times. After that last time, she concluded if the thirty something year old decided to touch her again, he deserved to be hit in the face the equal amount of times he fondled her.

Salander uncommonly managed to hold back the initial instinct to attack. Scuffles in Lisbeth Salander's life had become a rare occurrence. Since her trial, she had learned to keep her impulses in check. There was this continuous annoying and familiar voice reverberating inside her skull advising her to contain her combativeness. _Stupid Kalle fucking Blomkvist. _

However, giving a drunk man the benefit if the doubt was asinine and she, herself, was intoxicated. At the sense of the man's undesired touch, she achieved splitting her middle knuckle on the insufferable man's tooth and getting herself, as well as Mimi, kicked out of the bar for the night. _I need to hit the gym. _

To vent any pent-up aggression, Salander had taken up the healthy recreation of boxing at Roberto Paolo's gym. Though, it had been nearly two months since her last visit and her restraint was wearing thin, which may have been the reason she beat that bastard to a pulp.

Quickly, Salander showered and addressed her aching hand by pouring hydrogen peroxide over the wound. It was a small cut, but quite deep. Enough so that she should probably get stitches. Not being up to visit a doctor, she applied a butterfly band-aid, tightly wrapped the palm of her hand with layers of gauze. As she finished wrapping her hand, she wondered about Blomkvist. He was going to have her head when he found out last night's happenings. She then snorted to herself. _Why should I care?_

Over the years her relationship with Blomkvist had become more emotionally open and vocal, but an anxiety ridden Mikael urging her to visit a doctor was not something she felt like tolerating. And Salander didn't want to worry her daughter. With that in mind she covered both her hands in black finger-less gloves.

At the thought of her daughter, she glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was now 9:42 and Salander was mildly annoyed Blomkvist hadn't shown up with her baby yet. She picked up her cell and grasped it in her hand, contemplating whether or not to call him. Instantly, her mind assumed the worst. A car accident, an illness, murder, anyone of those things were plausible. Anyone of those things could sever the new contentment she had found in life. And if it were to happen to anyone, it would happen to her.

She paced the living room, over analysing the possibilities. Since she had the baby, her anxieties had multiplied. All concerned Blomkvist and her baby. She would give every last ore she stole from Wennerströmand her own life before allowing a thing to happen to either them.

_No. _Salander shook the negative thoughts from her brain, set her mobile down on the coffee table and decided to find an activity to occupy her time and thoughts. She turned to a book called _The Elegant Universe: Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions, and the Quest for the Ultimate Theory. _The book lists the physical curiosities such as properties of the motion of light, the ever curious occurrence of gravity, and the behavior of particles at the subatomic level. All these things combined have prevented physicists from establishing a single coherent theory for how the universe works. Whenever she cracked open this book, it got her contemplating the purpose of the universe, the purpose of her life and life in general. What a rare and strange thought that was for Salander.

Whilst she read the book, Salander noticed this Brian Greene wrote about the problem with modern physics and mathematics in the same manner Mikael wrote his journalistic books; easily understandable even to those with a simple mind. As she thought this, her mind aimlessly wandered to the baby girl she birthed almost forty-two months ago. For a moment she rested her eyes and a genuine dimpled smile graced Salander's face. The baby was going to be four soon and it seemed that only yesterday she was born. There wasn't a day that passed when Salander hadn't recalled the day her daughter came into this fucked up world.

Every detail was vividly carved into her memory, as everything always had been. The sterile stench of the hospital, the sound of rain thudding against the window, the annoying encouragement she received from the doctor and nurses. Yes, they were medical professionals stepping her through the process of child-birth, but damn she just wanted them to shut the hell up and let her body do what female bodies naturally do. Also, there was the stupid orange sweater Kalle Blomkvist had been wearing. It was an assault on Salander's eyes, she loathed that piece of clothing. _He still owns that fucking atrocity_. What was enticingly memorable, was the mix of worry and excitement etched onto his face.

Salander's feelings about Mikael had come to a major crossroads that afternoon.

Sure, she loved him but the trust she had in him was the first form of security she had ever known. There was an enormous relief knowing he was the father of her child. He would never abandon their child, and if God forbid, she died some gruesome death, her child would be in the care of a good man. _Mikael would never let anything horrible happen to my baby. _

In April, at 2:37 in the morning, a baby girl was born, weighing 2325 grams and being 34.4 cm in length. She had arrived four weeks early, but none-the-less, she was as healthy and beautiful, as any full term brat.

Knowing she contemplated abortion was almost too much to bear. While she was pregnant, all the resentment Salander held for a person who had never even seen the light of day was in vain. In her arms, was her very own flesh and blood, a reason for living. Together fate and biology gave Salander a true purpose in life. She vowed that her daughter would never know the feeling of pain or disappointment. She would love her exactly as Agneta had loved both her daughters. She would guide and protect her, just as her mother should have.

Abruptly, Salander set her book down, recalling that she had a new neighbor to continue investigating.

**…**

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Mikael Blomkvist peered into the living space of his Bellmansgatan apartment, sipping on his cup of coffee. At the low coffee table, sitting on her knees, was his three-year old daughter. The little girl diligently worked on a children's learning tablet that had been intended for a more advanced age group. Her plump little fingers skimmed the screen. With every correct answer the tablet congratulated her with a ring. Blomkvist wasn't even sure what noise would sound when an answer was wrong.

Blomkvist grinned. It wasn't a wonder that this was Lisbeth Salander's offspring.

Mentally she functioned at twice her age. While most three-year olds were beginning to identify shapes, animals and colors, she had surpassed that phase and begun developing her math and reading skills. This greatly was because Lisbeth took the time to teach. For a woman who had no patience for any human being, it was surprising she had such forbearance for a child.

Although her cognitive abilities were above average, her physical development was not on track. She was smaller than average but Blomkvist dismissed any doctor's concern and simply explained that his daughter was not average in any way, shape, or form. Lisbeth mustn't have been a portly child, so he factored in genetics and premature birth.

Nonetheless, she was a beauty in Blomkvist's eyes. Eerily appearing more like her mother every day. At times, he could see the similarities between she and Pernilla. They shared the pouty lips and rosy cheeks, which he supposed they both inherited from him, but the beautifully intense and expressive eyes his second daughter had, were her mother's. Then there was her dark hair.

A few months ago, Mirium Wu had taken her to a hair salon, where she convinced Lisbeth that their daughter should have bangs and bobed hairstyle. The hair she had been born with had been chopped off and Blomkvist felt slightly disappointed that he wasn't involved in that milestone. The hair had rapidly grown back and now the length was, more or less, level with her shoulders. He planned on taking her to her next haircut.

The tablet rang in approval, Blomkvist watched a crooked smile materialize on the toddler's face. Then, almost instantly, her delight vanished and was replaced with a pensive scowl.

As he finished off his coffee, she called in her tiny angelic voice. "Pappa?"

"Yes, Sötnos?" Blomkvist put the empty mug in the sink and ambled into the living room. His little girl did not speak often, in was not in her nature, but when she spoke her speech was crystal clear and he or Lisbeth listened attentively, because it meant she had a serious topic to infer about.

When he sat on the couch behind her, she spun around to look at her father. She cocked her head curiously, and her little eyebrows furrowed as she glared at Blomkvist.

"Does mamma love me?" she asked.

It was a surprising question, but Blomkvist's answer was immediate."Very much so."

That answer seemed enough for the little girl. She turned back around, facing the coffee table and went back to the game on her tablet.

Sitting up from the sofa, Blomkvist muttered incoherently to himself, deciding that after one more cup of coffee he would then head to Lisbeth's place. _She'll most likely be awake and ready by the time we arrive_.

With his second cup of coffee in hand, he sat comfortably on the sofa intending to watch his little sötnos enjoy her game. Unexpectedly, she sat up, climbed onto the couch, and cozied herself next to her father. Blomkvist didn't think there could be any greater joy for a parent. After a kiss to her forehead, he draped his arm around her, tugging her closer and silently observing how intelligent she was.

She was to count and add the shown shapes on the screen. Time and again she heard the ring of the right answer but when there was an annoying horn and bright red "X" across the screen, the three-year old grunted.

In the same manner her mother does, she lifted her head up and contemplated. Blomkvist curiously watched.

When she finished her thoughts, shook her little head and looked up at Blomkvist. "No pappa. Mamma doesn't love me."

Straightaway she went back to her game, but just as quickly her father stated, "Of course she does." He removed the tablet from sötnos's direct eye sight. Suddenly, there was a familiar death glare, which he found unbelievably cute. _She's too much like her mother._

Powering off the electronic, he set the tablet at his side, picked her up and set her on his lap.

"Your mother loves you plenty. Why would you say she doesn't?"

"Mimi says mamma's love their babies. Mamma's hug their babies... Mamma doesn't hug me."

He tried to give a justifiable reply. "Well you're not a baby anymore."

"But mamma doesn't say she loves me?"

His daughter was intelligent, but this topic was far too adult for such a young child. Blomkvist let out a sign and decided to change the topic. It would be simple, she was a three and a half-year old after all.

Since her day was free, Pernilla had asked to have lunch with him and his little Sötnos loved her older sister. "Do you want to see Nilla?"

She jumped up from his lap shouting, "Yes Sissy!"

He chuckled at her excitement and said,"If you go find your boots, we'll go see her now."

She gave him a quizzical look and pointed towards the front door. "But my boots are by the door pappa."

"You're right. Go get your gray boots by the door, so we can put them on and your jacket. It's getting cold."

Sötnos dashed away to retrieve her apparel and returned with her jacket already on. Quickly, Blomkvist helped button up his daughter's jacket and tie her tiny boots. He didn't bother to have her brush her teeth, or comb her hair and he left dirty dishes from breakfast in the sink. He was eager to get to Lisbeth's apartment and chat with her about the relationship she was developing with her daughter. And this was a topic he was not going to allow her to walk away from.

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Helpful Notes: 2325 is 5lbs2ounces, 34.4 cm is 13 and half inches. Sötnos means sweetnose and it's a very common petname in Sweden.

Author's Note: I had this thought that if Lisbeth had become pregnant, she might have trouble connecting or conveying her love for her own child. And this is the result. Also, Mikael and Lisbeth's daughter doesn't have a name -in this story- Y'all can use your imaginations and try to figure out what Lisbeth would name her child. This will most likely be a 3-shot story.


	2. TWO

Booking a printer for the October issue, should not have been difficult, but since the infamous Lisbeth Salander issue five years ago, there were trivial stumbling blocks. The main problem was Mikael Blomkvist, whom began micromanaging whichever printing company accepted. Again, Lisbeth Salander aided this complication.

Wernnerstrom-Her issue changed the way Blomkvist handled each new issue. Choosing a printer meant finding a printing company that willingly signed a non-disclosure agreement and since _Millennium_ magazine had almost doubled in circulation, the company needed to have the means to support the volume of 245,000 copies. And if those issues sold out, the company should be able to print out a thousand more copies on an extremely short demand.

A sudden chill fell over Erika Berger. Maybe it was the thought of Salander that made her body shiver, or the fact that the heating system in the building was on the fritz. Allegedly, it was fixed last week.

Standing from her desk, Berger mindlessly sauntered toward the coat rack by her office door. As she slipped on her oversized wool sweater, she gazed at the desk Blomkvist usually sat at and wondered about his relationship with Salander.

In the last few years, since Sötnos was born, that girl's presence has been rather consistent. At Blomkvist's request, she began working at _Millennium_ part time. Really, she worked at her own discretion until Blomkvist forced a schedule on her. She functioned as the office's IT specialist, ran the magazine's webpage and a couple of years ago she bought out the Vanger's share of the magazine_. _Though all the paper work read _Wasp Enterprises, _Blomkvist implied Salander played a major role in the buy out_._ Berger figured she had somehow come up with the money, and she couldn't say she wasn't grateful.

Since Harriet was out of the picture things seemed to be simplified. No more delayed meeting due to the woman's conflicted schedule or financial dependency on Vanger Industries.

One day, Berger gained enough courage to ask the girl about it. Her response was a _vague,_ "I needed to make an investment, and Millennium seemed like the right place to do it." Essentially, Salander handed her third over to Blomkvist in some unknown transaction. Actually that was an assumption Berger had based on the fact that she never showed to monthly meetings. One would imagine that the owner would like to know the state of their business but she never involved herself personally.

Now she was majority owner but only appeared in the office two days out of the week. And since it was Thursday, Erika prepared herself for a day of being an extra spoke in the Mikael and Lisbeth wheel.

Walking back to her desk, Berger sank into her chair, pulled the glasses off her face and rubbed at her temple. It wasn't that she had a problem with Salander, she would forever be grateful for Salander helping her with Poison Pen, but she would be lying if she said she did not feel a facet of resentment towards her. When she was around Blomkvist, Berger felt her twenty-five plus year relationship was practically void. Why was it that this emotionally numb woman cast a shadow over her?

As Berger brooded over the question, a light knock came from an unknown source. She looked up to find Malin Eriksson standing at the doorway with a few manila folders tucked between her arms and a prominent crease between her eyebrows.

Eriksson noticed her downcast mood. Kindly, she implored, "Are you feeling well?"

Berger offered a closed mouth sorry excuse of a smile. "Uhm...I'm fine. What did you need?"

"I was wondering when Mikael would be coming in. It's past ten."

While straightening up her posture and placing her glasses back on, she replied with an air of indignation. "I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

Eriksson stood at the office doorway for a few seconds watching Berger shuffling papers, organizing her desk and slowly returning to the professional woman she was. When she didn't say anything more Eriksson decided to leave. As she pivoted on her heel, the editor-in-chief asked, "Maybe I could help you?"

"Did Mikael turn in his article for review?"

"Not to me."

"Have you spoken with him about it?"

"I..."Berger paused. Her entire body slouched, rebounding to her mixed up state. "No... He was working on it yesterday though."

Eriksson nodded unsure how to respond to the woman who was beclouding her true agitation.

Once the editor-in-chief confided in Eriksson, suggesting she felt as though Blomkvist kept secrets from her. Eriksson supposed that the man did have secrets -everyone did- many in which, perhaps, Salander knew. Perhaps that was the reason his dependency shifted away from Berger and towards that girl. She only guessed this because there was this cohesiveness, an unnoted and mystical bond between Salander and Blomkvist. Or, it could have easily been that she birthed his daughter. A child is bound to connect the parents in some inexplicable way. Parenthood changes people. Malin would know, she had a child of her own.

As a mother, Salander was completely different from what the staff knew her to be. Once in a blue moon, the couple brought in their daughter, their little Sötnos. Everyone found that their eyes became glued to Salander and her daughter as if it were a car wreck, a burning building or some unknown species at a zoo. Her interaction with the little girl was awing. Beautiful. Heedful. Nothing like the assumptions the media made about her.

Since Salander's past had been exposed, the staff at _Millennium _found themselves seeking her approval and trying to gain her trust. Malin's self included. However, all efforts were ineffective. Salander didn't take well to people's empathy. She often mistaken it for pity.

No one in particular had severe issues with Salander. Quit frankly, she scared the shit out of many. She was hauntingly quiet and mostly kept to herself unless something crucial forced her to give a good chiding. Usually it was about inapplicable use of computers or inappropriate behavior at work. Besides that she only spoke to Blomkvist, or Berger if it was absolutely necessary. She preferred solitude but that didn't mean she was invisible. Salander wore a cloak of mild hostility and the constant sense of judgement radiated from her. _She's so intimidating._ Eventually the staff learned to let her be and came to know who she truly was by the way she interacted with her baby. And by Blomkvist's exceedingly high regards of her.

"Also," Eriksson began as she placed the manila folder on the glass table top of Berger's desk, "Christer had new advertisers that he'd like you approval on."

"Bring him in."

Eriksson frowned. "You gave him the day off."

Removing her glasses, Berger looked to Eriksson slightly confused. It seemed as though she couldn't recall giving him the day off, or why she would.

Eriksson offered a friendly reminder. "It's his birthday."

"Oh right, thank you," she said opening the folder and flipping through the pages.

"He left a note saying you could call him if-" Before she had a chance to finish her thought, Berger's cell chimed.

"I'll let you get that."

Berger answered on the third ring while Eriksson slipped out and shut the door so her boss could take the call.

After a short conversation with her husband, Berger grumbled,"Fuck."

He had called revealing his stay in London, to open a new art exhibit, would run another week. With over two weeks without sex, she was beyond the point of sexual frustration. It wouldn't have been such a problem if she hadn't been forced into monogamy. Yes, she and Gregor Beckman had an open relationship, but things were simpler when she was sexually dependent on Mikael Blomkvist. Cowering the bars and night clubs searching for a man did not sound appealing. Even if she did, she would be able to find a man that fucked her the way Blomkvist did. When it came to sex, he was rather straightforward and extremely gifted.

Seven years ago, things had been simple. She had a man for sexual satisfaction and a man who emotionally fulfilled her. Then suddenly, Blomkvist cease to exist as a lover. The man she had for sexual satisfaction was substituted as a platonic friend and he brought along his taciturn girlfriend. Externally she was emotionally numb, but not internally. Salander has done a great deal of work to save Berger. It proved the girl has some sort of empathy.

When she thought about it, she realized she never properly thanked Lisbeth, but that girl was bright. Berger expected Lisbeth to know she was grateful and would be forever grateful for her good deeds.

At the thought of Salander, Berger couldn't help but think of Mikael. She used to think Blomkvist and Salander got along so well because neither allowed themselves to become to emotionally attached to anything or anyone. In many ways, she knew it was true. No matter what, Blomkvist never had the emotional connection she had with her husband, because if that were the case she would have married Mikael long ago.

At times, she had the wondered how life would have been if she married Blomkvist, if he would have ever really fallen in love with her. _No_, _he's never fallen in love. Not even with Monica Abrahamson. _Berger very well knew he's never been in love. Ultimately, she would have left him for his lack of affection and inability to genuinely love her. Since she met him in college, she learned that with Blomkvist, sex and love didn't go hand in hand. Eventually, she adapted that outlook into her own life.

The phone on her desk rang. She stared at the outdated and she picked up the corded phone, carelessly answering, "This is Erika."

"Hey Ricky, I'm not coming in today."

She straightened up in her chair, genuinely inquiring ,"Mikael? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's perfectly fine. I just need to take a few personal days."

Curiosity struck her. "Well, what is it? Why aren't you coming in?"

"Nothing for you to be concerned about."

Leaning back in her chair, Berger contemplated. His casual response left her muddled and slightly annoyed. They've never had secrets between them, but since Lisbeth had materialized out of thin air seven years ago, he gave limited reports about his life. Even more so when Salander had a baby._ His baby_.

She took a stern tone with him. "You called me on the office extension, abruptly telling me you need to take a few personal days, as your coworker and as your friend I think I should be concerned."

A breathy chuckle travelled through the other line. "All you need to know is I don't plan on being back in the office until Tuesday."

In exasperation, Berger's head bobbled on her shoulders.

There was some disconnect that happened between them a few years ago and for a good year she felt awkward around him. With one brief and straightforward e-mail, he ended their carnal relationship. Even though he was single he explained how blessed he was to have such a tolerant and accepting daughter, but he wasn't going to miss out on his Sötnos' childhood. It was his second chance at being a good father and he couldn't allow himself to screw up.

This was understandable, but she could not comprehend was how their sexual relationship would affect his responsibilities as a father.

Instead of fighting him for insight on his personal life, she respected him enough to bypass any interest. And she would do that now.

" MmmHmmm...Gregor called me from London."

"Okay."

On the other end of line, Mikael sounded preoccupied. Despite this she carried on, " Well. I was hoping you would be here so I could discuss this in person, but I haven't seen my husband in weeks."

"And you wanted to visit him."

"Yes, I was thinking of booking a flight for Friday afternoon, and I'll return Monday around noon."

"So neither of us will be in Monday?"

"No... Maybe I should give everyone Monday off?"

He stated, "That'll be a pleasant surprise. We've already had the monthly meeting and everyone's assignments are nearly finished."

"Except yours."

" No, its completed. I'm sure Malin is wondering about the article I'm writing."

"Yes, she actually just asked about it."

"Tell her it'll cover three and a half pages and I'll e-mail the draft to her tomorrow morning."

"I'll do that."

"Did you book the printer?"

"Just made the call."

"Good."

Berger was suspicious as to why Blomkvist was taking a personal day, it prompted her to ask, "And will Lisbeth be away as well?"

"If I can force her to disconnect, then yes."

She nodded as if Blomkvist could see her through the telephone."How's Pernilla?"

"She's well. She's down from Härnösand, visiting."

"That's splendid, and the baby?"

"Missing Lisbeth. In fact that's why I'm taking a few days off. We're heading to Sandhamn for the rest of the week. She needs to have some time with her mother."

"Sounds nice. I hope you have a good time."

"Thank you. We will. Tell Gregor I say hello."

"Will do. Bye Micke."

"I'll see you Tuesday."

The other end of the line went dead and Berger placed the phone on the receiver, feeling lonely and dispirited. Though, she was happy he told her his reasons for taking time off of work.

**…**

From Blomkvist's apartment, the walk to Ivan Lo Musset park was 3 minutes where he met Pernilla. He left Sötnos with her along with a small backpack with mittens, a tooth-brush, tooth paste, a hair comb, hair ties and her tablet inside. He hugged his eldest daughter, and left his youngest with a kiss and started East.

It took Blomkvist 15 minutes to walk from the park on Bastugatan to Lisbeth's place on Fiskargatan. The entire walk he took this morning's episode and allowed it to percolate. This ordeal seemed ass backwards. Blomkvist knew Salander loved their daughter, but he never considered that the baby didn't feel that love. Despite Lisbeth's foibles of self-doubt and asocial behavior, she was a good mother; ever observing, and ever-present.

Thinking it over, he realized there was some truth to Sötnos' statement, _Mamma doesn't hug me._ Rarely did Lisbeth show physical affection. Almost never. And she would rather slam her fingers in a car door before she verbally admitted she cared for another human being. He was not entirely sure as to why that was. In more ways than one, that broke Blomkvist's heart. Perhaps, she couldn't show her true emotion towards him but he was sure their daughter was something in which she could attempt to give cathect.

Together they would solve this dilemma. _As a family._ It may very well result in him receiving a black eye but this was something he could not allow Salander to ignore.

he placed a call to Erika explaining he needed to take a few days from work. The call had taken longer than he hoped. Truly, he was eager to speak with Lisbeth about Sötnos.

He entered the apartment building and made his way to the top floor. Outside the front door, he halted. He was nervous. He was trying to figure out how to break this easy in a way that didn't result with his head being torn off.

Once he picked out choice words, he took a deep breath.

With his own key Blomkvist unlocked the door and entered the apartment he considered his second home. He removed his jacket and hung it on one of three wrought iron antique hooks Lisbeth and he had found at a second hand store in Halifax, Nova Scotia. It was something he picked out and she just happened to like the intricate mold of the metal. At the time, he was dating Monica Figuerola. Somehow, he had resisted Berger the entire relationship, but found himself unable to resist spending time with Salander. Gradually, time with her meant sex. To him, she was an alluring in the most enigmatic way. In an inebriated state, he had seduced her and though he was met with resistance, she conceded. Sequentially, this was the demise of his relationship with Figuerola. Lying wasn't something he was going to do. In the end, Blomkvist wasn't willing to quit Salander cold turkey like Figuerola wanted.

Stepping deeper into the home, he called, "Lisbeth?"

There was no answer.

Upon entering the living room, he saw her sipping on her morning coffee. With a hunched back, she sat crossed legged on the brand new navy colored Soffa 85 couch from Norrgavel. Her eyes intently on her laptop. Blomkvist still could not believe Salander allowed Sötnos to pick out that gigantic sectional couch.

As he advanced nearer to Salander, he could smell the fresh scent of Sachujuan shampoo. Her skin was still flush from the hot shower she had taken and her hair had been tightly braided back into two french braids. She wore a dark baccate purple top, a pair of fingerless black gloves and a tight pair of dark, almost black, jeans. She always appeared like a different woman when she wore colors, even if it was a dark and muted hues. Rarely did she wear such a color, but he was glad she did, because Sötnos loved color. What really caught his eye was that she had chosen to wear makeup today. Nothing too extravagant, just simple and natural.

Blomkvist took as seat at her right and greeted her. "Hey."

"Hey," she muttered never removing her eyes from the seventeen inch screen.

"You take up a job from Armasky?"

In a dead drone, she responded, "No."

Blomkvist took a closer look at the computer. The cursor slid across the screen checking and deleting emails on a Google G-mail account. Over the years he had seen Salander do this countless times, but it continued to be creepy that she had the ability to hack into someone's computer clear on the other side of the world. He placed his head nearer to the screen and squinted in order to read the recipient's name. His name was Örjan Mattsson, their new neighbor who moved in the apartment just below theirs.

Blomkvist pulled back and smiled."Still spying on the neighbor I see." She was more protective than a bear to her cubs, _She is a good mother._

Salander didn't answer the question, she came to her feet and took her empty mug to the sink. All while asking her own question. "Where's the baby?"

"With Pernilla."

Lisbeth's retort was cutting. "Why?"

Salander sounded as if she were disgusted at the thought of Pernilla with her daughter. Though, she wasn't. Pernilla's theism wasn't a problem, neither was her cheery disposition. Hell, Salander found her bearable and she was amazing with Sötnos. But it pissed her off that Kalle Blomkvist didn't tell her where or who he was leaving her daughter with, until after the fact.

She plopped herself on the couch and snatched the pair of Doc Martin's under the coffee table. She gazed at the computer as she placed each boot on her feet.

"Lisbeth, we need to talk."

Salander snarled at his authoritarian tone.

"We can talk later," she said firmly, "I want to see my daughter."

Salander brought her foot to the surface of the coffee table and began lacing her shoes. In the process of lacing, Blomkvist noticed she could barely move the fingers on her right hand. Lacing up boots shouldn't have been such a struggle.

"Pernilla took her to Ivar Lo-museet park," he said, "they'll be fine for an hour or so."

Through grit teeth, she turned to him saying,"I. Want. To. See. My. Daughter."

Once she finished tying her laces, she powered down her MacBook. Blomkvist stood as she did.

Furiously, she moved about the kitchen, shutting down the expresso machine, wiping down the counter and quick washing the mug. She didn't want to remove her gloves so she lazily rinsed the mug all while resisting the intense urge to throw the coffee mug at Kalle's face.

Salander knew Blomkvist eyes never left her. Hopefully he could catch the hint that she was livid. He had never done this to her before. It had taken her over three years to trust him fully with Sötnos' life and he pulled this shit. She felt betrayed. Hurriedly, she retreaved her leather jacket that was draped across a dining room chair and threw it on, all while wondering why the hell he wasn't speaking or why he was standing in place as if his feet had been glued to the fucking floor.

She started for the door and sensed Blomkvist was shadowing her. Grabbing the knob, she twisted and pulled. The door was cracked when, like a sudden gust of wind, the knob was yanked from her grasp and the door had been slammed shut. Intercepting her way out, Blomkvist's palm was firmly pressed against the door. A pinch of vexation went through her body. He defied her and while she loathed it when any fucking person that inhibited her, the will to challenge Blomkvist had been worn down over time. Salander respected him too much.

She stared at his large hand. Her eyes examined the thickness of his fingers and the shape of his nail beds. "Open the damn door, I want to see my daughter."

"_Our_ daughter," he growled in her ear, "doesn't think you love her and that is something we're going to discuss."

He removed his hands, and her shoulders easily slumped down and her head perked up, without avidity. Salander rotated her head in Blomkvist's general direction willing him to speak.

As Blomkvist agonizingly enlightened Lisbeth about this morning's happenings, Salander continued to not give him eye contact.

A firm set jaw and pensive glare aimed at the wall beside Blomkvist wasn't the reaction he fancied from her, but it was enough to know she was reflecting upon this wretched situation.

With her back still turned to Blomkvist, she grit her teeth, not wanting him to comprehend how painful this news was to her. Salander was immobilized by what her daughter had said. Her very own flesh and blood felt unloved. This was not how she wanted her daughter to feel. The day she was born, Salander promised she would feel no pain or disappointment. Ever. She had to figure out how to fix this. And she had to do it immediately.

Blomkvist leaned against the foyer wall with folded arms watching and waiting for the frozen blank expression on Salander's face to change. The last time he saw this kind of devastation in her eyes, she had just learned her mother had passed away.

"I've never doubted that you love her," he softly affirmed, "When you look at her, I-I can see it in your eyes. At the mention of her name you're entire demeanor changes. You don't even understand how gratifying it is for me to see you…happy."

Still facing the door, she at last she turned her sight to him with a shocked appearance. She had never considered that would find happiness in her life. But it was true, she was happy. Regardless of this horrid situation, she was happy.

"Lisbeth, you mean the world to her and you need to show her that she means the world to you as well. In your actions; hug her more, kiss her more and you should _verbally_ praise her and express that you do love her, that you're proud of her."

She bit her tongue. How could he tell her how to be a parent when he wasn't exactly father of the year. He himself had confessed that he was a horrible father to Pernilla.

A thick scoff escaped his mouth. "I know I don't have the best track record..."

With a roll of her eyes, Salander thought,_ How the hell does he do that? _He always knew what she was thinking.

_"... _I was a shit father to Nilla but I'm trying to correct my mistakes, and you should correct that of your mother's-"

Salander's entire body spun so fast, Blomkvist felt as if he had whiplash. She was toe to toe with him and ready to attack. "My mother loved me."

"How would I know? After all these years, you continue to give me scant information about yourself. I don't want the surface shit Lisbeth. Our relationship is past that. Friendship is based on respect and trust but a relationship needs depth."

Unsure how she should counter, Salander felt herself cower away. Biting at her thumbnail nervously, she deliberated. She needed a fucking cigarette. They were friends they were parents to the same little girl therefore they had to have a relationship. She was confused as to why the conversation evolved into this weird and strangely intimate discussion.

As always Blomkvist could convey her thoughts. "We're off topic."

Salander's assiduous unwillingness to reveal anything about her deep thoughts or past, was who she was, who she was forced to become and it drove Blomkvist up a fucking wall. She knew it. What she did not know, was he held on so tightly her. He had always been hoping to get her to open up to him, but it was like trying to catch the wind, and control it's currents. It couldn't be done. His only hope was for her to shift on her own, and change her direction.

He inhaled deeply, and let out a sigh. "I cannot control what you say to anyone, but she longs for it... I don't want out daughter to grow up thinking you don't love her..." There was no response from Salander, so he carried on, "When you were growing up didn't your mother tell you she loved you?"

Salander did not want to think about her mother, over the years the memory of her saddened her.

The first night she brought Sötnos home from the hospital, Blomkvist suggested she stay with him at his Bellsmangatan apartment. She decided to take him up on his offer, and in the middle of night when the baby screeched she shooed Blomkvist to let her handle it, but as she feed the baby she became overwhelmed. Salander sat on the hard wooden floor, silently crying, not knowing how to handle being a mother.

On top of all the other questions she had for Agneta Salander, Lisbeth would never be able to ask her about motherhood. The woman would never meet her granddaughter.

In the midst of her sorrowful thoughts, Blomkvist interrupted,"I guess my point is, people want to hear they're loved."

His voice was somber. Quiet.

Salander turned to him trying to interpret his words and absorb everything he had Blomkvist had said. _How could this have happened?_ They gazed at each other, each with their own intense thoughts, feelings and insecurities. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but at the moment she didn't care. She wanted to see her daughter.

Blomkvist reached around Salander, and opened the door. "Let's go."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to write this as simply as possible, which is way most sentences begin with HE or SHE. I hope that's okay. Also, I feel as though I shifted point of views to much...OH well! So let's take a look here. Are Mikael and Lisbeth together? Yes and no. They've never breached the subject. Whatever cohesive parenting style they have is working. Plus, I feel they need to form a strong friendship before they could have a romantic relationship. Although, in this story, it may be coming to the point where their "friendship" is ready to evolve. At this point they've known each other seven/eight years. That's why Mikael said, ".._.people want to hear they're loved."_ In a subtle way, he's begging for her to say it to their daughter... and perhaps to him? We'll see how the next part plays out. Next. Where do they stay? I would say that it's logical they spend a majority of their time at Salander's apartment since it's larger, but there are times they find themselves staying at Blomkvist's. Usually, on the nights Lisbeth needs alone time, Mikael takes the baby for the night, leaving Lisbeth to dawdle in the apartment or do whatever she pleases. Some nights she sees Mimi, which always hooks Blomkvist curiosity. He knows they've slept together. Again he's never wanted to ask about it. He might not want to know how possessive/jealous he might become if he knew the truth. As for Erika, I think I pretty much summed it up in the chapter. She respects and appreciates Lisbeth, but I think she holds a special amount of umbrage towards the girl because she "stole" Mikael from her. Bing-bang-boom. It's that simple. Feeling like the third wheel sucks, but Blomkvist never said they were committed, he's never said he was seeing anyone, but when Sötnos was born he left her an e-mail explaining how he wanted to be a good father and focus on his new daughter and mending the relationship with his eldest daughter. In conclusion, Berger is very confused by the relationship he and Lisbeth have. She doesn't know whether or not they're dating or just sleeping together. What she knows is, it's none of her business.

REVIEWS GET PREVIEWS! MUCH LOVE! HAPPY READING!


	3. THREE

Now-a-days both Blomkvist and Salander kept their smoking to minimum. For their daughter's benefit, they collectively restricted their favorite past time to once a month. After the print of each new _Millennium _issue, they shared a celebratory pack on the balcony of her Fiskargatan apartment, discussing both the printed and forthcoming issue, and occasionally in below zero weather. Salander quite looked forward to this monthly tradition. Once Sötnos had been tucked into bed and all the world seemed to be sleeping, she felt it was the only time she truly had Blomkvist to herself. In fact, these casual meetings were the highlight of her month. Internally Salander scoffed. _Fuck I'm pathetic. _

Nothing interesting had happened to her in quite some time. Everyday life had become a relaxed sameness. No man hunts or life threats nor mysteries to solve. While she missed the adrenaline pumping adventures and mishaps, she looked forward to her monthly nicotine fix and some alone time with a dear friend._ I'm so boring, just a woman raising a daughter that deserves a better mother._ Salander winced at her own thought.

Currently, the itch for a cigarette could not be ignored. This motherhood fiasco had set her off, and due to the circumstances the craving for a cigarette was beating Salander upside the head. Smoking had always calmed her; it helped her concentrate and think clearly. And when the chattering in her head failed to cease, smoking helped her not think at all.

As Blomkvist and Salander headed towards Ivar Lo-musset park to retrieve their daughter, she insisted they pick up a pack of cigarettes. Blomkvist was reluctant, but he understood the impulse was fueled by deceptive guilt and dangerously low self-esteem. He hated seeing her depressed.

On Götgatan the couple stopped off at the Seven Eleven. Blomkvist collected the cigarettes while Salander mulled over buying a chocolate bar, as if offering candy could win her daughter's love. Once she decided against that idea, they purchased a pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes, a lighter and a canister of breath mints.

As the couple walked, they smoked and Salander contemplated her role as a mother. Gradually, with the birth of her little Sötnos, the insecurities she had dissolved, but now when her mothering was being put into question, all those insecurities bubbled to the surface. The overall outlook on her character mustn't have been good if own daughter said, "Momma doesn't love me."

Prior to and following her trial, she sensed herself become better. By some means, she begrudgingly found herself helping Berger. However aberrant it was of her character, she subtly established connections with people like Mirium Wu, Armansky, Giannini and Blomkvist. Dare she say form friendships? Why she resisted the urge to kill Ronald Neidermann would forever baffle her. She wasn't sure if it was caused by the moral kick she was on, or that her newly found freedom could have been revoked after the fact. Easily, it could have been a blend of both. Then there was the professional and graceful way she handled the Teleborian trial. Even with her abhorrence aimed at the doctor, she was calm, collected and less hostile then she assumed she would be. It was unnatural. Though, Blomkvist's support and attendance might have positively affected her behavior. The bottom line was, she consciously -somewhat- held herself to a moralistic standard she never before attempted.

Becoming a mother, meant her role in this indifferent world dramatically altered. This new moralistic standard was no longer a selfish act. For her daughter, she tried to become a new improved version of herself. Being magnanimous was easier than she thought but knowing she had to consider how she would be reflected in her daughter's eyes made being altruistic easier. Life was not just about being a good mother, but it _was_ important to be a good person. Salander hoped her daughter would think of her as an honest, honorable and overall, good human being. She did not want Sötnos to know she willingly and often frequented pubs to drink, or that she had been in a bar fight the night before. She cringed at the thought of revealing any details of her past.

The first two years as a mother, Salander scrounged any ounce of love she could physically show and gave it to Sötnos. Somewhere along the line, she got lost in the monotony of motherhood. She became this robotic machine used to its routine. She fed her daughter, bathed her, dressed her, took her to doctor appointments, taught her right from wrong, educated her and tucked her into bed but the most important thing had been overlooked._ How could I have forgotten to hug her, to give her affection? _This was a question she had asked herself at least a thousand times since Blomkvist revealed the sad truth.

Side by side, the couple started down the Monteliusvägen. The pathway was on the North Western side of Södermalm up on the rugged cliff of Mariaberget. Along the walk, there were several terraces and benches to take advantage of the romantic view of Lake Mälaren**,** City Hall, Riddarholmen and part of Gamla Stan.

Blomkvist studied Salander. Usually she paced through the streets with an agenda but she was walking slower than usual. There was no intent in her steps and Lisbeth hadn't uttered more than five words since they left the apartment. The news hit her hard and as much as it pained him, he couldn't help her untie this Gordian knot. It was her job to salvage her relationship with her daughter.

When they stumbled upon an empty bench Blomkvist sat, expecting Lisbeth to sit at his side. However, she continued on bypassing the bench and taking stance at the wooden guardrail. An aching of disappointment hit him in the soul. Since their meeting, Salander had been unresponsive and emotionally distant, and that wasn't likely to change. Though, with that came the physical distance Blomkvist came to loathe. She continued to flinch or tense at his touch and understanding why was like trying to breathe underwater. It simply was impossible. He had proven his loyalty to her through and through but it had never appeared to matter.

Once in a blue moon, she'd drop her guard, remove her armor and welcome the intimacy he knew she craved. And when those moments manifested, Blomkvist could dismiss any past rejection he received from her.

He studied his Sally with what any onlooker would call an intense admiration. She rested her elbows on the weathered railing while lighting a new cigarette. Her eyes became glued to the ebony church steeple of Riddarholmskyrkan while Blomkvist's eyes were on the jet black of her hair. His sights scanned the rest of her body. Anyone would assume she could be snapped like a twig. She might have been the toughest person he had ever know, but her body broadcasted stereotypical feminine fragility. At least once in awhile he could let biology have it's way; believing he was the protector and provider to Lisbeth.

With a bowed head, Salander was grasping the railing, kicking at the pebbles by her feet. The cigarette between her pointer and middle finger drifted into the chill October air. He wanted to leave her to her thoughts, but his craving for nicotine overshadowed that courteousness. Five seconds later he requested, "Can I have another cigarette?"

Slightly, her head shifted, as if she were about to look at him over her shoulder but she stopped short. Acknowledging his inquiry, she dug into the back pocket of her jeans and tossed the pack at him. The toss was a surprise that caused him to fumble with his catch. Sliding back the flap, he noticed there were only four cigarettes left in the pack. They hadn't even opened the pack an hour ago.

Shaking his head, in disappointment and amazement, he pulled out a cigarette addressing Lisbeth, "Light?"

This time, she spun around and took the three steps towards him on the bench, before digging the lighter from her jacket and offering it with her left hand. He let out a sound that crossbred between a huff and a chuckle. At least she didn't throw it at him. They exchanged glances as he reached for it. A jolt of electricity surged through his entire body when his hand grazed hers. He wondered if she sensed the electricity as well. Probably not.

He thanked her, lit his cigarette and she wandered back to her designated spot by the railing.

As the couple nursed their smokes, all the pedestrians and passerby's vanished from Monteliusvägen.

While Lisbeth continued her brooding, and smoking, she noticed a lone man in black standing on an adjacent terrace. He was a slender man, with heavy five o'clock shadow and dark hair. He wore a plaid cabby hat and had what anyone could recognize as a Roman nose. When she noticed a Nikon D3 camera hanging from his neck, she tensed up. From time to time someone would catch a snap of Blomkvist and Lisbeth and send it to _Expresson_ Magazine but paparazzi was not much of a problem these days. Though any man with a camera gave her a certain degree of apprehension, and rage. She tried to think of other things such as the color of the sky, or the weather.

The Stockholm sky was split between ominous and cheerful. Thick gray clouds rolling in from the North indicated that the rain tonight was almost definite. Blomkvist shifted on the bench hoping it wouldn't make for a difficult ferry ride to Sandhamn.

Noticing her cigarette was nearly spent, Blomkvist rested his own between his lips and dug around in his pockets. He stood, lit the new stick with his own and walked the smoke over to Salander. Without word, or a hint of expression, she seized the newly lit cig from him and turned her attention back to Riddarholmen.

Unknowingly blocking Salander's sight of the man with the camera, Blomkvist leaned against the railing. As she gazed out at the water, he viewed the eight foot high fence along the pathway. The brick red paint was flaking, revealing tagging that had once been painted over.

He anxiously scratched the back of his neck informing, "I told Erika we weren't coming in today."

Salander's eyes never faltered from the sights but the twitch of her eyebrow was enough of a response.

"Or Friday," he added, observing her unreadable expression transform into annoyance.

Making choices or plans for her wasn't common, but this instance felt justified.

"Or Monday. I figured we could take the ferry to Sandhamn and have some family time."

She shook her head. "I can't."

Looking to him she continued, "Not tomorrow."

Blomkvist gave her an imploring glance then turned to watch a boat tug it's way through Riddarfjärden.

Salander thought she recognized an iota of defeat on Blomkvist's face. She assumed it was because she had spoiled his plans, or perhaps it was because she hadn't communicated her plans for tomorrow. Hardly did she reveal what she was up to, and it was only yesterday he called her saying he was going to lunch with Erika Berger. He was very considerate of her.

She clarified, "I have an appointment at the clinic in Östermalm. I'm getting the tattoo on my calf removed. It's my first session."

Recently, she had finished her sessions for removing the chinese symbol from her hip. All tattoos were slowly fading, with the exception of the large dragon on her back. He nodded wondering why she had yet to verse him about the laser tattoo removal sessions. Especially if she was going tomorrow morning. Where and who did she plan on leaving Sötnos with? He supposed it didn't matter, she had never compromised their daughter's safety but it would have been nice if she at least informed him about her plans.

She studied him, seeing he wasn't so much perturbed as he was doleful.

Immediately she went to apologize. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it sooner."

"It's fine. It's fine."

He appreciated the apology. An apology from her was as good as gold.

She watched Blomkvist stub out his cigarette on the wood railing and drift back to the green bench. He began picking at the peeling paint, looking as let down as ever. On way or another, she found a way to disappoint him. At least that's how she felt. Really, she didn't want to bring him disappointment any longer.

Salander meandered towards the bench and stood in front of Blomkvist, staring at her boots, puffing on her cigarette.

She didn't know, but for the briefest time, he studied her face. Faint lines were forming around the edges of Lisbeth's eyes, but they didn't give away her age. Her raven black hair was slightly lengthier with baby doll fringe bangs. The hoop had never been removed from her nostril and her dark eyes still has a bitterness that was incomparable to the crudity of their first encounter. Blomkvist never expected this to go away but her overall hostility was milder than it was eight years ago. He moved on and drank in her physique. With pregnancy, her thin body had grown feeble curves. Still she was very lean, and at the moment very tempting. Other than those few things, she was virtually unchanged since the first time he laid eyes on her.

Automatically, a reel to reel of memories flashed through Blomkvist's mind. Everything played out like a sped up home movie. From the day he met her, he felt as though they had been long lost friends. Even if she had hacked into his computer and invaded his privacy, he felt she was a kindred spirit. He had nothing to hide from her. Her aid in Hedestad was significant, and when she rescued him from near death he knew he was forever bound to her in some incomprehensible way. After their time in Sandhamn was spent in uninterrupted peacefulness, he recalled the pain that stemmed from her disappearance and what drove him to stalk her after, he did not know. Blomkvist only knew he missed her. Not only did he savor her companionship, he genuinely liked her. To this day, the dirty bloody sight of her at Zalachenko's Göteborg farmhouse reached out and squeezed his heart. He had almost lost her. This only reaffirmed that he did not and would _never_ want to be without her.

Salander took one last drag and carelessly tossed the butt to the ground. She sat surprisingly close to Blomkvist, seeming unusually timid.

"We could still go after my session. I could pack everything tonight...We'll leave on the first ferry to Sandhamn after my appointment," she practically pleaded for that to be the plan, " Yeah?"

Blomkvist patted her thigh and muttered, "Yeah."

His hand settled on her thigh and this was a time in which she did not recoil. Through his peripherals, he noticed she was cradling her stiff right hand with her left. He wanted to ask about it, but was side tracked when he gazed down to see her left hand hovering over his own. She hesitated. In a flash, she pulled her hand back.

She wanted to hold his hand, but she couldn't bring herself to initiate in that type of affection. This type of thinking was embedded in her.

An overwhelming urge to embrace Salander came. Instead, Blomkvist leaned over and kissed her on lips. For a moment she was eager, kissing him with a raw passion he only saw in the privacy of a bedroom. When she pulled away, he realized his kiss must have lingered longer than she was comfortable with, at least in public.

Coming to her feet, she asked for a cigarette.

Blomkvist, himself, felt like a teenage boy with a crush. In the pit of his stomach, his pulse was racing and he was attempting to catch his breath. He took out the pack while announcing, "We're down to the last two."

The couple each smoked, steadying their hearts. The smoke seeped from Salander's nostrils, and billowed into the air. She was aroused, but the bastard on the adjacent terrace was holding his camera and staring. Being unsure of his motives prompted her to wrangle up her excitement.

Feeling irritated and slightly vengeful, Salander stood in front of Blomkvist, gazing down into blue steal eyes. Peering up at her from the bench he mumbled, "Hmm?"

"That man to the right of you, has a camera."

Blomkvist searched seeing what the man was doing. As far as he could tell, the man was fiddling with his camera.

"I don't think he wants to take pictures of us," he reassured.

"He was staring."

Standing up, Blomkvist smirked at Salander before kissing her cheek and muttering, "Let him stare."

She desperately wanted to kiss him, to cave, to let her emotions and affection free flow, but it wasn't in her. Salander knew she still had many hurdles to overcome.

Blomkvist placed his hand on the small of her back, willing her to walk away. As they paced further down Monteliusvägen, Salander noted that she couldn't see or believed this man had changed, in any shape or form. Yes he was slightly older, but he was also a few pounds lighter. Healthier. He rarely interfered in her life, unless it concerned Sötnos. It why she didn't berate him for ordering her to take a week away from Stockholm. At his temples, his hair was slightly grayer and the whiskers on his chin were entirely white. That pigheaded man was attractive as ever. Who knew it was possible to fall in love with someone over and again?

* * *

Author's Note: So...this chapter WAS longer. I decided to post what I have written and I'll post the second half sometime soon. OKAY! So how was it? I know I promised three chapters but this story has stretched from a one shot to a multi-chapter mini story. Expect one, maybe two chapters more. Three at the most. I hope that's okay with ya'll? Also, I will most likely RE-edit and repost this chapter in the next few days. AS I ALWAYS DO... [I suck at editing] Anyways in this chapter you can sense some insecurities exuberating from Blomkvist. It's kind of pathetic, though endearing. He knows Lisbeth is who she is, and he accepts her but he merely wishes she was more open with him. (i.e. her life plans, her daily plans, physical intimacy, even piddly things like food she prefers or weather she likes) Personally, I feel with their relationship, her taciturnity will always be a constant struggle. Thanks for the support and past reviews! Remember reviews get previews! Much Love and Happy Reading!

**[THIS IS A RE-EDIT]**


	4. FOUR

A breeze rustled the leaves on the ground and in the trees. Gray clouds peeked through the leaf thin branches encumbering the cheerful bright blue sky. From a distance, the consistent chattering of a bird prompted the few people in the park to search for the sound. Sitting on a park-bench, Pernilla also examined the tree tops of her surroundings, searching for the wounded fowl.

Oblivious to the chirping, Sötnos was to preoccupied to care about the annoying sound. A distracted child's mind won't stray far from what is distracting them. Staring at the ground, she scurried about in an adorable pigeon toed way kicking at the leaves. When a green one caught her eye, she'd halt, bend over and brush the ground to be sure the leaf was to her liking. When she stumbled upon another, her young chiming voice exclaimed, "Twelve!"

With the green Ashtree leaf in hand, the dark haired girl rushed to her big sister shouting, "Twelve! Twelve!"

Along with the others, Sötnos placed the twelfth leaf into Pernilla's lap and awaited some form of praise.

Proudly, Nilla declared, "Wow, you found so many! Now what are we going to do with _all_ these leaves?"

With no answer, the girl's bantam shoulders shrugged.

"Hold your hands out," Pernilla said.

Sötnos cupped her itty-bitty plump hands. Pernilla then dropped the leaves into the girl's waiting hands and suggested she toss them into the air. The girl acceded, and was amused by the leaves as they drifted back down to earth.

As the last leaf had touched the ground, Pernilla saw familiar figures in her peripheral vision. At the North side of the park's entrance, she saw her father and Lisbeth Salander walking up the green knoll.

Together, the couple looked awfully bizarre, yet, like pieces of a puzzle, they fit perfectly together. For two people of drastically different ages, genders and social groups, they were cut from the same cloth. Pernilla thought Salander to be completely odd, possibly suffering from some undiagnosed psychiatric disorder. The oddities and social dysfunction must have been her way of coping with her past, but she was similar to her father in ways. They were both intelligent and always lost in their own heads.

There was a couple of feet's distance between them as they neared. The way they moved together showed a united front with each stride in sync. Any interaction they had with one another was a silent dynamic. Never a power struggle, or jealousy. At least nothing visibly seemed as such. Heck, Pernilla had never once heard them argue. There was an occasional exchange of upset facial expressions but never shouting nor harsh words. That very well may have been because Salander was a tough shell to crack and a near mute, but Pernilla respected the woman her father was dating. If they were dating?

She glowered to herself._ Are they dating?_

Sometimes, when it came to sex, her father had questionable morals, but it had been years since there was gossip about him spending the night with any other woman besides Salander. Well, years since she heard any gossip. Really it was none of her business, but it caused her to conclude that Salander and Blomkvist were serious about one another. The birth of Sötnos solidified that the couple may be been in it for the long haul. It made Pernilla happy that her father and Lisbeth found solace in one another. Maybe even love? She internally shrugged_, __Who knows? _The only reason she truly questioned their relationship, was because her father would have told her they were dating by now. But he hasn't spoken a word about their relationship.

Pernilla called out to her little sister and pointed to the parents. "_S_ötma_! _Look who's here_."_

The little one looked at the direction of the pointed finger and bolted towards her parents in a toddle like jog.

From across the park, Pernilla waved to them. Blomkvist waved back and Lisbeth acknowledged her with a nod of the head.

Sötnos crashed into her father's arms. Once she was settled onto his side, Blomkvist smiled saying, " Hi."

"Hi," she repeated.

"Where's my kiss?"

Sötnos puckered and pecked her poppa on the lips.

The sight vexed Salander. It shouldn't have, and she knew that but it _always_ vexed her.

Father and daughter had a bond she didn't entirely comprehend. The only feeling between her father and she was hate, and the only interaction they had was violent. The man didn't have a shred of love for her, and the feeling was mutual. If she was to be frank with herself, she was jealous and even envious at the attention Sötnos got from Blomkvist.

_"_Pappa you smell yucky."

"That's because your mother and I were smoking cigarettes."

crinkled her nose

"Ew, is correct. You shouldn't ever smoke, it's unhealthy for you."

"It makes you sick?"

"Yes, unhealthy means bad for you."

Sötnos looked to Salander with a cocked head and puckered brow. "Is it momma?"

With no expression, Lisbeth gave a single nod that Sötnos understood very well. Mother and daughter easily communicated through silence and gestures. This was something Salander wasn't aware of. In his mind, Blomkvist swore they had a psychic method of communicating. Another thing she wasn't conscious of, was the comfort Sötnos found in her mere presence.

The little one then realized, "Momma you didn't put me to bed."

An undecipherable expression flashed on Salander's face as she glanced at her daughter. She wasn't sure how to reply, she couldn't very well say she got shit faced with her lesbian ex-lover, punched a drunk molester in the face and spent most of her night hanging out with a toilet. Ashamed, she couldn't look at her daughter. All she felt like doing was running away.

Blomkvist noticed that Salander had clammed up. She tucked her hands into her pockets and suddenly became suspicious of her surroundings.

_Damn it! _he thought_. _He hated, _No!_ detested when she got reticent with him and their daughter. .

Letting out a guttural groan, he answered Sötnos for Salander.

"Well," he started, curling his lip sarcastically, "momma had some _fun_ with aunt Mimmi last night."

He let a chuckle bellow. A fake, forced chuckle that Salander did not like hearing. Then a small titter chimed from Sötnos as if she understood the implication of her father's joke. However, Salander did not like that connotation. Why would he assume she still slept with Mimmi?

Removing Sötnos from his hip, he placed her on the ground and glanced at Salander, who was giving him a murderous glare.

The little one tugged on Salander's jacket, saying, "Momma?"

The intake of Lisbeth's brain seemed to have glitched. She heard the voice of daughter repeat, "Momma?" But she could not bring herself to glance down at the voice.

"You have to say something to her."

Scowling at him as he walked away, Salander felt small fingers tapping her thigh repeatedly. "Momma. Do you like my hair momma? Nilla did it."

In a spiritless fashion, Salander unconsciously forced a smile. Though laconic, her daughter sure was blathering. A lot.

She brought her delicate hand to her daughter's head, and lightly petted the french braids. The strands of nearly black hair glowed in the sunlight. If she had to thank her bastard father for anything, it would be the recessive gene for dark hair. At least Sotnos hadn't been born with a blaze of red hair, where she would stand out and be the target of cruel mockery or attract unwanted attention. Her bright eyes and high cheek bones did enough to draw attention. In an adorant fashion, Salander gazed at her daughter. She was going to be a beautiful girl.

The little one went to grab the hand on her head, and Salander pulled away as if she had been scalded with hot coals.

Without any thought, she responded in the same manner she would will any other person. With a spiteful glare and a growl, "Don't touch my hand."

Spontaneously, Sötnos' big minty blue eyes went wide in shock. And just as briskly, Salander felt the wave of fretfulness hit her. Frozen, she stood there witnessing her daughter's eyes glazing over and her bottom lip quivering.

Unsure what to do Salander hesitated to coddle the whimpering child. She wanted to do something, anything but she couldn't bring herself to proceed. Soundlessly, she stood there wondering why her maternal instincts were so fucked up. _Not only am I shitty human being, I'm a shit mother too. _

There was a hair-trigger realization in the mother. Her abrupt reaction might have been entirely unnecessary. Especially for a child. When she was threatened in any form, she handled -or mishandled- a situation with a fierce , and occasionally violent, reaction. For as long as she lived she learned to extinguish the flame or ignore it completely. Simple.

Nevertheless, motherhood wasn't as simple as black and white. Motherhood had it's simplicities but it also had complexities. There were more ramifications to consider. Such as, the times she disregarded her daughter. Sometimes, she gave Sötnos a disinterested look or did not verbally acknowledge her. It wasn't intentional, Salander was to preoccupied in her own mind to respond. This had always been her way. Her brain was microchips and fiber optics that continually sent signals about even when it was overheating. The damn thing was always on, always working, always humming with electricity. And she was too closed off in her own head space to care about anyone's feelings.

However, when she took a glimpse at Sötnos, she was still fighting tears with her head hanging low in unnecessary shame, and it pained Salander's heart. Damn, how that little girl toyed with Salander's emotions. If Sötnos was upset, Salander was overwrought with depression. If Sötnos cried, she mind as well have been stabbed. If Sötnos was cut, she bled. Sötnos wasn't a random person she could overlook. This was her daughter. Her very own flesh, blood and bone.

After a deep, cleansing breath Salander decided to step into an aberration. Being nurturing wasn't her specialty.

Squatting to be at her daughter's eye level, Salander spoke gently, "I hurt my hand last night, so you have to be careful with it. Alright?"

Sötnos acknowledged her mother with a bob of her head, her eyesight never straying from the ground.

Overwrought with despair, Salander took a comfortable seat on the dirty ground. She grasped her daughter's waist and lightly tugged her closer so she could gaze into her almond shaped eyes.

"I'm sorry I got angry..." she apologized, but that didn't seem to be enough. The child's head was hung low in distress.

Salander felt panicked. Nothing came of the apology. She was sitting there blabbering about her hair.

Grasping Sötnos' chin, she forced the girl to look at her. Then she gave a compliment. "You're hair is nice. I like it."

Reaching out, Sotnos' shyly handled the short braid on Salander. "We match mamma."

"We do, don't we?" she stated. "Were you good for your father last night?"

"Yes momma."

"Are you sure?" she asked in the most serious of tones.

"Yes momma."

"What did you do without me?" All while poking the child's sides and belly. Which produced a fit of giggles coming from the girl just as she hoped.

Sötnos smiled her tiny gap toothed smile. Her tiny little body tensed up in excitement. "We ate pasta for dinner!"

Salander found herself smirking at the child's excitement. _Over fucking pasta_. She couldn't recall a point in her childhood where she was so careless and excited over such a trivial thing. Normally, her daughter wasn't an exuberant little girl. She was tame, agreeable and unnaturally quiet. Which is how Salander prefered a child be, but that's how she had been with her own mother. Quiet, closed and sometimes unaffectionate. Salander had sewn up cuts and iced bruises then her mother would kiss her forehead and say she loved her but nothing serious was discussed. No one really talked except Camilla; who mostly spoke to herself, about herself. Salander never knew what to say to her mother. There wasn't much to discuss. Her mother would always allow her father back in the apartment.

Never, would her daughter witness that kind of destruction and pain. Salander didn't want that type of relationship with her daughter. It had to be different.

Once more, Salander could not help but smile at her daughter, who was beaming ear to ear.

"I missed you last night."

Out of nowhere, Sötnos lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck.

A distinct pilot light had been ignited within Salander. Whatever it was, she welcomed the warmth. There was no mental resistance, she instinctively snatched Sötnos up, and cradled her in her arms. Despite the pain pulsing in her hand she wouldn't let her daughter go. This burst of affection was new, and good. It was wonderful. Salander found herself so elated that she couldn't abstain from kissing the little girl's plump cheeks.

"Stop momma!"

Sötnos pressed her little palms against Lisbeth's collar bone, pushing Lisbeth away while her head flailed back. She wailed, "Noooo."

Any ounce of joy Salander was feeling, dissipated. _ My daughter hates me. _She loosened her hold on the girl and let her go.

Pointing at Salander, she said, "You stink momma."

The little girl rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

"Sorry..."

Lisbeth pulled out the small canister of breath mints and offered one to Sötnos. She took one and placed it in her mouth and immediately shouted, "Ack!" She spit the mint out "Hot."

Then Salander had come to a detestable realization. One that nearly sickened her. She thought it numerous times, but she felt horrible because Salander had never once told her daughter that she loved her.

"You know I love you. Don't you?"

"I love you mamma."

"Can I have a hug?"

The little girl opened her arms and swathed them around her mother's neck. Salander sat there unsure where the hesitation to return the hug but she had failed to give affection for so long. She wasn't going to allow her daughter to be deprived of it any longer.

Timidly, Salander requested, "Can I have a kiss like you give poppa?"

The little girl puckered her lips and gave her momma a kiss on the cheek. Waves of elation crashed into Salander.

"Momma?"

"Hmm?"

"You smell bad."

"I won't smoke anymore," she gave a nod and assured, " I promise."

...

Before Blomkvist had a chance to greet his daughter, Pernilla asked, "Was she mad?"

"Seething," he countered.

Cloaked behind her composure was concern. Blomkvist had become all to familiar with the expression on Pernilla's face. With every visit, she worried about offending Lisbeth by some means. For her this was difficult, because Pernilla had grown to love Lisbeth. In her own words, she had expressed that she could never dislike a person that was so similar to her father. To this day, he didn't see it but after hearing Holger Palmgren and Annika state how akin they were, he couldn't deny it any longer. They must have been two sides of the same coin.

Leaning over, Blomkvist draped his arm around Nilla's shoulder and reassured her. "She's not angry with you, she was angry at me."

"Really? Why?"

He wasn't sure how to reply. Lisbeth didn't specifically say what she was upset about, but he was sure because he left Sötnos with Pernilla and failed to inform her about it.

Following a long exasperated sigh, Blomkvist held his daughter a bit tighter. Briefly, he explained Lisbeth's peculiarities, gave a nonspecific summary of her past and reminded Pernilla about the mistrust she had for every human being. To this day, she still didn't trust him.

Being the compassionate person she was, Pernilla nodded with sad and sympathetic blue eyes. A few brief moments of silence passed while they gazed over at Lisbeth, who was now sitting on the ground, intently speaking to Sötnos.

Changing the subject, Pernilla handed her father Sötnos' backpack and declared, "I have some good news."

"Oh, what's that?"

"I forgot to tell you why I'm in Stockholm."

He slung the tiny packback over one shoulder and replied, a bit puzzled, "For a visit I thought?"

"Partly," she declared with a genuine grin, " but SIDA found a permanent job for me at the main office on Valhallavägen in Ostermalm."

Thrilled for his daughter, Blomkvist gave his daughter a hug. "That's great, congratulations Nilla."

He was happy to hear it. Nilla had certainly made her way in the world. She took a few courses at Gothenburg University before starting missionary works for Light of Life. Eventually she found an internship with the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency or as it's know, SIDA. It was a company working on behalf of the Swedish parliament and government. The mission was to reduce poverty around the world by teaching underprivileged communities that they, themselves could pull themselves from poverty. Blomkvist was thankful that it was a job where she would have security.

Pernilla recited her previous day of touring the offices of SIDA and signing documents. Blomkvist listened while observing Lisbeth and their daughter interact. She was sort of rambling on about how she needed to start apartment hunting and find a place or she'd have to move back in with her mother.

Since Blomkvist knew searching for a place in Stockholm was hell, he offered, "Why don't take my place?"

"On Bellmansgatan?"

"How many apartments do you think I have?"

"Are you going to live with Lisbeth?"

"I've entertained that idea for a some time... It's a possibility. I'll speak with her about it and let you know about the apartment."

"Thank you poppa," she informed, "I'll be back in Stockholm after New Years then I could help out with Sötnos...if you ever need it."

Warily, Pernilla glanced at her father when she asked, "Do you think she'll let me watch Sötnos?"

In uncertainty, Blomkvist felt himself frown. He wasn't sure how Salander would handle that idea. There were only two people in this world she entrusted her child with; Annika and Blomkvist, himself. Hell, she had a hard enough time getting accustomed to having Annika babysit.

"I'll speak with her about that too."

she enjoyed spending one on one time with her only sibling. She explained how she brought her to Café Mariaberget,ordered her a pastry and brushed her teeth in the bathroom.

From a few feet away, Blomvist smiled to himself as he observed Lisbeth give affection to Sötnos. Not only did she offer hugs, but she kissed her cheeks.

"She loves Lisbeth so much."

"She does," He agreed, his eyes alight with joy.

Another silence hung between father and daughter, but Blomkvist didn't mind, or seem to notice. He sensed the breeze brush against his face, and heard the sound of leaves rustling but what struck him most, was the amount of adoration he felt as he watched Lisbeth interact with her daughter. From an outsiders view, there was no doubt this was mother and daughter. They interacted so naturally and normally that it filled Blomkvist with vast amounts of hope. For all her short comings, he could see she has grow as a human being, and he prayed that she would continue to evolve and find comfort in her own skin.

"Pappa, do you love her?"

Blomkvist defended, "Of course I do. She's my daughter."

"I was talking about Lisbeth."

An airy smirk materialized on Blomkvist's face. He was fond of her. He supposed he was fond of many woman, loved many women but being in love had never really happened for him. Sex had simply been sex, but with Lisbeth sex was different. Not in a bad way, just different. Strenuous but always enjoyable. And recently sex had taken on a new form. It had become less about a quick animalistic lay and more about taking the time to enjoy the intimacy.

He was personally content with both forms of sex, but there was something special about basking in the bliss and taking a few hours to hit their climax. Time, along with the entire world, almost ceased to exist in those hours, as they did in Sandhamn years back. He would have been perfectly content living out the rest of his years on Sadhamn with her in his fifteen by eighteen cabin. There she has made him happy. There she seemed happy. And after all was said and done, she vanished from his life and it hurt. He thought of her at unexpected moments and his mind always wondered to the first time they had met. He had been enthralled with her since the moment he heard her name. Lisbeth Salander. Odd how a complete stranger bewitched him but he was astonished that she had been able to hack his personal computer.

Being in love with any woman wasn't something he gave much thought. There wasn't much he could say to Pernilla besides that he admired Salander. Deeply. Practically, in an unholy manner. Being in love was one thing. Loving Salander was another. She was his friend and she always would be.

Blomkvist simply turned to Pernilla and suggested they get a cup f coffee before lunch.

* * *

**Author's Note: **crap, Crap, CRAP! NOT happy with this chapter. AT ALL. There's moments where it is just useless babble and I'm not getting my point across. That's why it's taken so long to post. This chapter, it's not doing ANYTHING for me, point of views are jumpy, etc. but my mind just couldn't take going over this chapter again. SO I sort of...well I actually gave up on this chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways. I'll probably re-edit and repost real soon. As I always do.

One thing I want to point out, is how vulnerable Lisbeth is...even with her own daughter. She asked if she could have a hug. She asked for a kiss. To me it was very childlike and she was pleading. Lisbeth Salander doesn't beg, she doesn't crave physical intimacies -well not the she consciously acknowledges- and she certainly doesn't care about anyones opinions about her. Except her daughter...

Answering a few PM questions: If you don't recall I did not give Lisbeth's daughter a name. In this story I had them refer to her as sötnos, which means sweetie or honey. While Pernilla calls Sötnos sötma, which means sweetness or honey and Sötnos calls Nilla sissy. I figured the sisters should have their own special little bond. The worst part about writing this is trying to not make Lisbeth to domesticated, because she's not. Also I don't naturally write this way, I was trying to stick to Stieg Larsson's straight forward, and overly informative way of writing but thanks for the compliments.

By the WAY... Where are all the other Millennium Trilogy fanfictions!?


	5. FIVE

Faint lights from outside radiated through the windows; painting strange patterns on a wall. Though the bedroom was illuminated, it was cloaked in a lurid darkness that left Salander uneasy. She was a restive person by nature, but she felt unbearably agitated for some reason. Tucked between the mattress and a thin duvet, she lied in bed tossing and turning. There was a ticking coming from the clock on the nightstand. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._ She went to sleep with that sound every night, but something was peculiar about the sound tonight.

Dazing out the window, she wondered why the haze of sleep didn't overcome her and carry her away to a welcomed anesthesia. Frustrated, she kicked the covers off. Her eyelids weighed heavy, but she was engrossed with the sound of the damn clock. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _Panning her eyes up, she glanced at the clock. The time read 2:14 a.m. Almost hypnotically_,_ her eyes followed the second hand as it made its revolution around the clock's face. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _As the second hand came back around, it halted and pulsated on the twelve for a good thirty seconds. Salander frowned at the sight.

_Must be broke,_ she thought.

When the ticking became resonant with another noise, Salander opened her eyes to glance at the clock. The second hand continued to palpitate at the twelve and the other sound had joined in cadence. Abruptly, the ticking stopped; both sound and oscillation of the second hand. Nevertheless, another sound persisted.

With a furiously beating heart, Salander rolled onto her back, not wanting to deal with what -or who- may appear before her eyes. The hard soled shoes thudded on the wood floors; pacing back and forth. Back and forth. She tightly closed her eyes and prayed for it to stop. She repeated in her mind,_ Please go away_. _Please go away._ At the thought, the sound halted. Relief flooded through Salander's body. As a precaution, she kept her eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep.

Minutes passed by before Salander felt secure enough to reopen her eyes. When she did so, the breathe left her lungs from shock. In the dark corner of the bedroom, there was an ember glow of a cigarette. With the sight, there was no question who was lingering in the corner. Sometimes he'd be a dragon with greasy black scales and smoke wafting out the nose. Other times he'd be a bastard of a burn victim with a limp. This time Alexander Zalachenko ambled towards the bed appearing as he did in her childhood. Exhaling the smoke of a nearly spent cigarette, he stepped out into the light exuding through the windows . His high cheekbones and eyes were identical to hers. Even with his austere presence, his outfit gave the air of elegance, and arrogance.

As he approached the foot of the bed, he gave her an evil grin before stubbing out the cigarette on the wood of the foot board. The demon caressed her left foot with his clammy hands. Not even seconds passed, before he stepped around the foot board and advanced nearer. His hands slowly, menacingly, grazed the bare skin of her shin. Salander attempted to move, to fight, but there was an invisible force pinning her to her bed. Still he drew closer towards her head, his torrid fingertips running over the skin of her knees. With another step, his touch ran over her thighs. Goosebumps rose on her skin.

Again, the bastard stood there haunting her somewhere between land of dreams and the realm of reality. There were no words, but her mind furiously spit out obscenities. She could not talk nor could she defend herself. Her father pressed his hand down on her sternum, his other hand sliding beneath her shirt, caressing her abdomen. Salander's stomach felt as if someone had taken a sledge hammer to it, her heart picked up it's pace. She was nauseated and frightened. Tears brimmed in her eyes. When his touch turned towards the inside of her thighs, she flipped. She tried to shout, to scream for Mikael but the words caught in her throat. How the fuck was she to get out of this one?

A sudden sweltering tightness encompassed her waist, and in her ear there was a gritty mollifying whisper, "I'm here Sally."

It was 2:20 a.m. when Salander suddenly jolted into a full consciousness. Her surroundings were no different, but there was one less person in her room. At her back, she sensed hot breath on the nape of her neck and an immense warmth sheathing her entire body. The tightness around her waist was that of a lone arm, slung over her waist. She let out a sigh, knowing Blomkvist had awaken her from the bad dream. Again.

Twisting around, she sleepily gazed at him feeling appreciative. It was strange how much easier sleep came when he was in her bed. How the nightmares didn't haunt her as often. Or how he broke her free from the bondage of these nightmares.

With a grimace, she considered that Blomkvist had become an intricate part of her life. A very obscure life partner she never expected to have. It certainly hadn't been something she planned or fantasized about. Little girls usually dreamed about their prince charming, envisioning their futures with husbands, children and white picket fences. She on the other hand, imagined killing her father. The only passion she had in life was to know he was six feet under and burning in hell.

And it must be true. No matter how many doctors told her she had sleep paralysis, she was positive it was her father haunting her from hell.

When she looked at Blomkvist, sleeping serenely without a care she had an urge to strangle him. It pissed her off how he could easily fall asleep, remain asleep and wake from sleep. What angered her more was how she, dare she admit, _needed_ him. She didn't like that she needed him, what she hated even more was that she wanted him there holding her.

Although, he wasn't a mere partner and strangely, she couldn't even consider him a human being with his own thoughts and actions. If it were possible, he was more than a plain ol' human being. He was her salvation. With nightmares, and otherwise.

Unable to fall back asleep, Salander wriggled her way out of Blomkvist's hold. She strolled down the hallway, dragging the fingertips of her left hand along the cool walls. When she came to the last room on left, she stepped into the threshold, folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. Inside the room was Sötnos, sleeping as peacefully as her father in a converted crib. _She's getting to big for that little bed. _

Salander spent ten minutes observing, becoming in tune with what she was sensing, how her body and soul felt. With this baby came a contentment she's couldn't comprehend. It wasn't until the previous day, when Blomkvist said he enjoyed seeing her happy, did she realize she was truly happy. Or as happy as someone as she could be with her life. This mustn't have settled well with Zalachenko's ghost. Somewhere in the pits of hell he heard his daughter's blithesome soul cry in exultation. It had to be why the bastard materialized, because several months had passed since her last nightmare.

Taking a giant exhale, Salander decided she wouldn't give that fucking ass hole another though. There was no use in dwelling on her past, or harboring such hatred. It only would keep a persons soul blacker than tar. Her life had a higher purpose than just living, or sulking. Now she lived for her daughter.

In those glorious moments, such as this one, when Salander allowed her fucking mind relax, it dawns on her that she's a mother. She remembers how hard she fought to bring her into this world, and how she would fight the world over to keep her safe and happy. This, this was love. It was a love that would last, a love that would never be forgotten, a love that would never disappear or be regretted. It was meant to be.

...

A rustling drew Blomkvist, the light sleeper, from sleep. Instinctively, he knew Lisbeth was out of bed. Opening his eyes, there was a small lamp on, washing the room in a dull light. Sitting up in bed, he removed the covers and swung his legs around, setting his feet on the floor. He noticed a leather duffel bag on the floor with clothes slackly tossed on the top of it. In a panic, his heart pounded and his thoughts raced. _Is_ _she leaving me?_

With an assortment of Sötnos' clothes draped across her forearm, Lisbeth sauntered in the bedroom, yawning and scratching at the back of her head. Her hair was lazily pulled back and she was wearing one of Blomkvist's old t-shirts. Though, the shirt wasn't long enough to hide her gray cotton underwear and in the dim light, her bare alabaster legs seemed to glow. And those damn fingerless gloves were still on her hands.

There was a brief exchange of glances before she tossed the clothes on the duffle bag.

Blomkvist rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and willed himself to become fully awake. He recounted the day before. _She must be packing for this weekend,_ He assumed.

Knowing Lisbeth checked on their daughter -it was a habit of hers- he asked, "How is she?"

She replied, "She's fine."

Sinking into a cross legged position on the floor she started shuffling through the clothes. He watched as she folded each piece of clothing and neatly tucked the outfits away in the leather duffel. The weak smirk that came to his face was unstoppable. He remembered at time when she just shoved heaps of cloths in a bag.

Things were drastically different than eight years ago. Lisbeth had fought most of her demons off, but some things about her continued to be a hindrance. What sticks out in his mind the most was a discussion -well he's the only one that spoke- that they had in his apartment about a week after Sötnos had been born.

In the undersized kitchen, Lisbeth stood at the counter slicing avocados for open faced sandwiches. Standing at her side, Blomkvist cradled his newborn daughter, gazing at her with vast amount of reverence and wonder. His vision alternated from sleeping baby to his crestfallen friend. Since the baby arrived, there was a voicelessness in Lisbeth. If she hadn't taken a vow of silence, but she fasting. A bird ate more than the girl to begin with, but three days without any nutrition was unhealthy for any being. The behavior she was exuding concerned him. The post birth belly pudge she had was shrinking much to quickly, no one would have guess she had given birth a few weeks ago, and her appearance was turning sallow.

Sötnos began to fuss, and like a lightning bolt Lisbeth spun around on high alert. With her arms outstretched, she stepped forward to take the baby from Blomkvist's arms. He simultaneously took a step back.

Confused, Lisbeth craned her neck. With locked eyes, they stood in the kitchen across from one another. Blomkvist waited for her to speak; to say one fucking word. He missed her voice. Placing her arms out, as if she were begging for alms, she again stepped forward. She wanted her whimpering baby, but he gravely uttered, "No...I'll change her," he said, "You need to eat."

He left her alone to finish making their lunches.

Blomkvist knew he made Lisbeth feel depreciated. He knew she was probably seething inside, but he wanted her to eat, he wanted her to speak to him. Whether it be her cursing him out, or her begging to hold Sötnos, he just _needed_ an emotion out of her. Any reaction. He hadn't seen life in her for weeks.

Upon reentering the kitchen, with a clean Sötnos, he noticed Lisbeth sitting at the dinette glaring at her sandwich as if it insulted her.

The baby continued to fuss and wiggle in his arms, so he turned Sötnos over to her mother. "I think she's hungry.

In the chair, Lisbeth pushed herself away from the table then pulled at the hem of her shirt, revealing her breast. Gingerly, Blomkvist slid the baby into Lisbeth's waiting arms. He observed as she cradled the little one with care, and began breast feeding.

All life seemed to be at peace. Sötnos was feeding, and even though Lisbeth appeared to be calm as well, there was a disheartening placidity in her eyes.

Not knowing how to tackle this situation, he went to the cupboard retrieved a glass and poured himself water from the tap. Watching the girls, he leaned against the counter, pondering his relation to Lisbeth. Sure, they were friends but he fathered a child with her. The dynamics were drastically different. Any normal, breathing, functioning human being would contemplate their association to the individual they conceived as child with. Obviously, at the moment, neither of them were involved with someone. Sleeping with Erika again, might not pan out well, or screwing anyone else for that matter. He didn't think he cared if she decided to be with someone else, but then where did that leave him as a father? Their entire co-parenting and friendship status was up in the air. When it came to Sötnos, he wanted austere rules set in place. All questions needed to be answered; everything needed to be set in stone. What days did Lisbeth plan on working? Which days would he have his daughter? The weekends were obviously better for him, but with the attachment Lisbeth had to Sötnos, he didn't believe she could handle three days away from her baby. Therefore, would it be easier on her if they moved in together? If so, would they take his apartment or hers?

His mind was reeling with thoughts, questions after questions. There was one he asked before, and he felt it finally needed to be answered.

"Sally...Do you trust me?"

Her eyes gave him a quick aching look. A nod succeeded as her eyes drifted back to the thirsty little babe.

"With your life?"

A bit longer, she hesitated with an answer. She kept her sight back to the suckling bundle, running her fingers over Sötnos' silken brunette hair. She seemed enthralled and in love but to Blomkvist, she appeared absent minded.

He stepped away from the counter and called, "Lisbeth?"

With soft, reddening eyes she squinted at him thinking hard about the question. Trust was this continuous botheration in their relationship. While it was nice to know she trusted him to a certain degree. It surely didn't mean she trusted him with every aspect of her life. There could only be cracks in the relationship if she picked and choose what she trusted him with.

Their vision lingered on one another. Blomkvist pleaded for an answer with his eyes. What a relief it was for him when she acknowledged him with a nod. The girl had no need to speak falsities, she never even had the desire to speak the truth. One thing he knew about his Sally was that she would never lie to him. He only wished she would have verbally said, _Yes Kalle, I trust you with my life._

He sauntered close enough to pet the infants head. "With her life?"

At that question, Lisbeth came to her feet. Irascibly she pushed the chair in with a kick of her foot and walked out of the kitchen. He watched her rush to the bedroom, with their daughter still nursing. She spun around and used her foot to shut the door. Blomkvist caught a glimpse of her piercing green eyes just before the door clicked shut. Apparently, she didn't trust him with their daughter, or she just didn't want to answer the question.

Allowing him to keep Sötnos overnight had been a struggle for years. She rarely allowed him to do a thing alone with the baby because she couldn't be in control, she couldn't protect the baby like she had a natural instinct to do so. She was far to attached.

Salander had flaws, many fucking flaws. Trusting people was one of them, being caustic was another. There were things she would never be able to overcome or heal from if she wasn't willing to psychologically face them. There had been several moments over the years when Blomkvist wondered why the hell he even put up with her. Many times in their frustration with one another, he stumbled into Erika's arms and Salander retreated to Mimmi, or whomever.

Eventually, they learned to live cohesively with each other. Each of them had their nights off from parental duties, but those instances where few and far between.

What began to bother him most was her very low self-confidence. She had alway been confident in hacking, or as an avenger, but not in her role as a mother, or even a plain ol' human being. Whether she liked it or not, she was beloved and he hoped one day she would accept that.

...

In Sötnos' bedroom, Salander sifted through a drawer full of clothes, pondering about how the hell she got through the previous day. It was odd because usually she saw Pernilla it was at brief spurts of time. Never more than an hour, but when Nilla insisted on spending the entire say with her _family_, her so called better half thought it was a brilliant idea. On the other hand, Salander thought it would be agonizing. She didn't need Blomkvist's daughter passing judgement on her. She didn't need to form opinions on her mothering, or her personality in general.

Almost immediately, she informed Blomkvist that she would head home and see them later on in the evening, but Nilla overheard and ruined her plans by begging Salander to stay. Then her daughter pressed what Nilla wanted and Blomkvist was no help. He shrugged, saying, "They want to spend time with you."

The three pairs of eyes gazing at her, mind as well have been a fucking gun aimed at her head.

With great reluctance, Salander picked up Sötnos and positioned the girl firmly on her hip. She pressed her forehead against her daughter's forehead and playfully said, "Alright. Where are we going?"

All day long Salander just swallowed her malevolence and let Sötnos spend time with her big sister. Despite the years between them, there was an a sisterly bond that Salander thought unnatural. At times, she just wanted to shout at the girl to leave her and her daughter the hell alone. Lashing out on Nilla would be a crime against Blomkvist and just plain inconsiderate of her.

It was astonishing how Blomkvist indulged Pernilla. At lunch she picked the restaurant, after she decided where they were to head next. He didn't spoil Nilla with material things but he was attentive and loving, just as he was with Sötnos. For some stupid fucking reason it made her feel like a subordinate, that was only in his life because she had gotten knocked up. His true affection was for his daughters. It left a restlessness in Salander.

They stopped off at a book store, where Sötnos choose a rather age appropriate book for Pernilla to purchase as a gift. Grudgingly she let the sisters alone to rummage though the book shelves. Blomkvist went missing somewhere in the book store and she was left alone. While waiting, she picked up random books and flipped through them. She came to a book of quotes and read a few. Soul mates, love and philosophical words had absolutely no fucking effect on her. The entire things seemed so silly, words never made anyone feel better. _They never helped me. _

Sighing to herself, she proceeded to stuff clothes into her duffel for Sandhamn. She pondered whether or not she should reveal that she had fallen for him all those years ago_. _Once she thought about telling him the truth as to why she disappeared from his life, why seeing him with Berger to this day left her uneasy. Except, there had never been a right time. _What difference would it make?_ she mused. Emotions were harder than hacking a computer or stealing Wennerström's millions. Emotions just, sucked. Especially the ones that hurt. His stupid comment about how she had "_fun"_ with Mimmi had truly bothered her. It wasn't the fact that he had said it straight to Sötnos, it's not as if she understood sexual innuendo, but it was his presumption about her sexual affairs. She had a an overwhelming urge to tell him the truth about Mimmi and her since that very moment.

And in a lightning flash, these words escaped her mouth, "I didn't sleep with Mimmi last night."

Sitting on the bed, Blomkvist's mouth hung agape. Sudden relief washed over him. It's not that he cared if she slept with other people. Even if he was curious he chose to never pry. However, he wondered if his complete sexual and emotional commitment to Salander was worthwhile. A small twinge of satisfaction hit him in the chest, realizing it was.

He opted not to respond apart from the lift of his eyebrows.

Then she blurted, "I haven't slept with her or anyone else in... two years."

For being called a mute, she was sure blurting a lot of personal information. Inner thoughts that Blomkvist rarely welcome to.

With a smirk on his face, Blomkvist joked, "Whoever thought a lesbian satanist would be the monogamous type?"

_How the hell did that happen? _When she did she become monogamous? When did it come to the point that she was content with only him?

Lamely, she retorted, "You've never met a lesbian satanist before."

"I guess not," he said pointing to her, "Are you going to take those gloves off?"

Lisbeth ignored the question. She bowed her head and fidgeted with the glove on her right hand. What curiosity that came over her, she wasn't sure, but she questioned him anyhow. "Who's the last woman you slept with?"

He responded quickly, "You."

A glower came to Salander's face and her eyes empty of a distinct emotion. It was evident she wasn't very impressed with his jesting.

Blomkvist let out a heavy sigh, pressing down any uncomfortableness he felt. He mumbled, "Erika."

"And you stopped sleeping with her."

"I did."

"Why?"

Blomkvist was puzzled at the confusion in her voice. At her addled tone, it was evident she didn't believe him. "You mean you didn't read the e-mail?" he asked.

Of course she began to, but at the halfway point, there was some invisible force that stopped her. Once she saw that it was a virtual goodbye letter, she sensed that it was too personal and obviously not meant for her eyes. There was pain in the words he typed and she decided that if he wanted to tell her about the e-mail he would. After she logged off and shut down her computer, she never gave it a second thought. He said he was done with her and that was all she needed to know.

She snooped and pried her way into other people's lives, invading their privacy and digging up their secrets without a second thought. It was in her DNA, but on some level, she respected Mikael Blomkvist.

"Something was different," he reported, " Not for her but for me... You honestly didn't read it?"

Lisbeth admitted, "Part of it."

" Maybe if you would have read through the entire thing, like I expected you to, we would have had this conversation sooner. "

There was no reply from Lisbeth. He knew there were disordered thoughts running through her head. If she only knew what was streaming through his mind. He wanted to take this second chance at fatherhood and do it right. Following Sotnos' birth, his acknowledgment of failing Pernilla only magnified. It weighed heavy on his heart but it didn't stop him from sleeping around. When Sotnos began speaking, he decided it was time to stop his sexual escapades and dedicate time to her. And Lisbeth was more than enough. Her sexual appetite was healthier than his own. Which is the very reason he assumed she was having sex with Mimmi last night.

"So what did you really do last night?"

"Went to Kvarnen and got drunker than I should have." She added, "I got thrown out. Expect a story published in _Expressen_."

_Fucking gossip magazines,_ he thought. Years ago, they snapped a picture of her on a cigarette break outside of the _Millennium_ office. _Aftonbladet _expressed that with her past behavior and near convictions she was an unfit mother and the father, a man once convicted of liable showed bad judgement when he impregnated this type of woman. She honestly didn't give a fuck what they said. It made no difference what they called her, but Blomkvist fought tooth and nail to have that statement retracted. When she read the refutation, there was not a word apologizing about how they portrayed Blomkvist. Only a personal piece on her, with quotes from him, as well as the workers at _Millennium,_ expression how loving she was as a mother.

He stood from the bed, imploring, "What happened? Tell me."

Blatantly she replied, "Some drunk fuck groped me, so I hit him in face."

Blomkvist's brows furrowed. A surge of anger went through him, followed by worry.

"Did someone take pictures?"

"Not that I noticed," she responded.

"Let me see your hand."

Salander stood from the floor removing her gloves. Unwrapping the gauze from her hand, she revealed her bruised knuckles to Mikael.

He hissed, seeing that it was more serious than he assumed. He took her hand in his own inspecting it. The skin on her middle knuckle had been split open but sealed with a butterfly band-aid. He glanced up at her, seeing her lips puckered, either in thought or in pain. "Does it hurt?"

After a subtle lift of her shoulders and tilt of the head, she grunted as if saying, _I've had worse_.

Blomkvist lead her into the bathroom and took a look at her wound in better light. Besides her hand being puffy, the skin on her knuckle was split and being held together with a butterfly bandage. He began to pull up the small bandage, but he worried he could do more damage than good.

While he carefully swathed her petite and temporarily pudgy hand with gauze, he sternly proposed, "Next time you _should_ restrain yourself."

"I won't. Not when he fuckin deserved it."

Instead of reprimanding her or carrying out the conversation, he overlooked her pig headedness knowing there was no sense in telling her what to do. There was no sense in offering suggestions. She was going to do as she pleased.

"I'm sure he did," he said, giving a chide glance, "but you have a daughter to think about."

Salander noticed the rebuke in his look. It shouldn't have made her feel guilty. "Are you angry with me?"

"Angry? No, why would I be angry?"

"Because I'm a bad mother."

With a shake of his head, Blomkvist dropped his eyes to her hand. "I think that's about the stupidest comment that has passed through your lips."

Following the statement , he used a few of medical tape to prevent the gauze from moving, but the entire time he held a heavenly leer. It was a facial expression that Salander quite enjoyed seeing on Blomkvist's face. Though, she frowned not knowing why he smiled. She didn't know why, but she continues to expect him to degrade her in some way, but he never had. With the exception of one memorable time.

With the pregnancy, she hadn't done as she originally planned. The moment she received the news, she intently contemplated abortion. The months went by, the fetus grew and the next thing she knew, she was admitted into Södersjukhuset for complications. Not a soul knew. Mimmi was prancing around Paris with some new broad, Anders Jonasson was working a double shift at and sadly, Holger Palmgren had passed before she had found out there was a human being growing inside her. Then there was Blomkvist, whom knew nothing about her pregnancy, or the fact that the baby was his. she hadn't seen in several months. Of course, the e-mails rolled in, her cell constantly rang and she knew that he had dropped by her apartment at least four times. Once she had been inside, another she locked him out the remaining two, he left letters in her mail slot.

With every visit she had with Annika, there was a looming fog hanging over their heads. Salander would never ask about him, and Annika would never mention her brother. The doctor informed Annika and she that she had false labor caused by dehydration. While she had tried to rest, Annika played the congenial baby sister and called Blomkvist.

When a frantic Blomkvist showed up, Salander informed him about the adoption plans but that didn't settle well with him. His exact words were, "This is idiotic. It's fucked. That baby is the only family your about to have and you want to give it away."

For some reason, she had lamely pleaded with him, expressing how she couldn't raise a normal functioning child, which only enraged him more.

"Sally, you don't even know fulfilling having a child would be!" he urgently, pleaded for her to keep the child as her own.

"I-I," she stuttered," I can't...I can't keep it... I won't ruin this kid's life."

"And you won't ruin this kid's life-"

She interrupted him with an exclaim, "It's inevitable! You know that and I know that."

"I don't believe that! Give yourself some credit Lisbeth. Considering your upbringing, you know exactly how not to raise a child. You should want to give 'em the life you never had. The life you should have had. Now, I want hear you're keeping this baby."

The silence hung thickly between them. He begun pacing and stomping.

Finally, she said, "I won't make a good mother Mikael."

Sternly, he spoke between clenched teeth. "When you make the right choice, you call me." In a frenzy, he stormed out of the hospital room.

Needless to say, she didn't call him. She made a visit to Monica Abrahamsson didn't understand why he was so upset, especially if he didn't believe it was his child. She ended up taken a ferry to Sandhamn to think things over. For some reason, she wandered down to the cabin he owned on the waters edge. She had no clue Mikael was on the island as well until she heard the shuffle of footsteps coming from behind her. A simple greeting, dinner at the inn and a night spent in the cabin changed her mind.

In the bathroom, Blomkvist was still inspecting her aching hand with a large smirk.

"What?" she implored about his smirk.

"It shocks me that you have a daughter."

"Yeah? Well that's _your_ fault."

He simpered, seeming a bit to proud of himself. After tossing the old bandages in the wastebasket, he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh and he lent forward kissing her neck, leaving Salander's heart pounding in her chest. Questions what the hell was she doing with him? She chose to disregard any urges that might overcome her, and focus on her hand that was about done being redressed.

Once again she checked on her daughter, she collected a few pairs of socks for their little vacation to Sandhamn. Back in her bedroom Blomkvist was laying on the bed, and she slipped in beside him. He touched her thigh, saying,"You're a good mother Sally. Don't ever doubt it."

Such a compliment gave her a thrill and the way his hand ran up and down her thigh made her nerves stand on end. She seduced him in her not so subtle ways by removing her shirt, underwear and straddling him. They had unhurried and fervent sex. Fucking had become more than some primal animalistic need. There was, what she considered, an intimacy. She could look him in the eyes as he throttled her and from time to time, she caught herself whimpering _"Kalle"._ The sex before was good, but sex with intimacy was better.

The couple laid sweaty and tangled in sheets. Already Blomkvist appeared to be asleep. To be sure Salander, tucked her arm under her head and watched his chest. His breathing was unsteady and too quick for him to have fallen asleep. Like she he must have still been catching his breath.

"I need a smoke," she mumbled with exertion.

With closed eyes, he murmured, "We're supposed to quit."

"We said we were going to start using birth control too, and that hasn't happened," she added, "I promised Sötnos I wouldn't smoke anymore."

Blomkvist smiled at the comment and said, "We're gonna have to take up chewing gum."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Eek! It's been an eon, but HEY! it's summer. You forgive me, right?

Thanks to everyone for complimenting my _**mediocre**_ writing. I just feel it's uninteresting (BLAH BLAH BLAH is more accurate) and there's just something off about my writing. Also I would like to address something in the last chapter. Lisbeth has softened, dramatically, but her harsh snap at Sötnos was to show that even though she has softened, she gets stuck in her head. For that split second it didn't occur to her that Sötnos was grabbing her hand. The fact that she was a mother wasn't in her mind at that moment. She just knew her hand was touched, and whoever didn't should keep their hands to themselves.

Södersjukhuset means South Hospital it's of course in the Southern most part of Södermalm. As for Salander's sleep paralysis, I think sleep paralysis is a state of not unconsciousness but a conscious of a realm we cannot see when we're fully awake. To many examples have suggested they see evil and demons, then there are other instances where they just feel as though they can't breath. So I think the lost of breath is true sleep paralysis and the former is true evil. Was Blomkvist a light sleeper?

I was considering going to Wattpad for my original stories, rather than fictionpress. Does anyone have any feed back about that sight?


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